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I’ve never worried about anyone’s preferences on my physical appearance before, and I’m not so much worried as I am… anxious. I’m anxious to hear what she’ll say in response as I snap the selfie, the very top of it hitting just below my chin and the bottom stopping on the towel right above my cock. No need to send her something obscenely immature like a hard-on tent. I don’t have a dick pic on my dating site profiles either. I find the practice vulgar and uncreative, and from what I’ve heard from previous subs, they do nothing to entice most women. I also find that the men who post dick pics as their profile picture need more validation, craving assurance that their cock is impressive enough to attract attention. I don’t need such platitudes. Again, I’m Polish, and along with being hairy motherfuckers, we’re also endowed as fuck. I have no need for anyone to tell me I have a larger-than-average penis. It’s just a fact.
Plus, I only want to send her a taste, just enough to stimulate her appetite and want more. If I were to send her a photo that includes what’s beneath my towel, it could have the opposite effect. It was hard to believe the first time it happened, but there are women who will decide against a man who is well endowed for fear it will be too much to take.
I upload the photo into our message thread and hit Send, her response coming soon after, but long enough after it switched to Read that I know she must’ve stared at me for a while.
WillDive4Plants:
You're much prettier than I am right now.
I'm gonna go die in the café.
My chest swells, and I smile at her compliment, knowing damn well she’s trying to play it cool. I’ll put a stop to that shit right now.
RomanticSadistLL:
You almost got a video so you could hear me tell you how good you’re being and that you make me smile.
I can practically hear her sexily whimper through her next message.
WillDive4Plants:
(Photo of the gym stairs aimed downward from the top)
Let me make it down the stairs, pretty please. You can’t be putting images like that in my head when I’m trying to do super-hard things… like walk.
That actually pulls a chuckle from me, and I put my phone in my locker so I can take a quick shower. When I return and get dressed, I then check my messages, seeing she didn’t send anything else.
I wonder where she is. Is she still here at the gym, or did she leave while I was rinsing off? The idea of her being gone while I’m still here is weirdly unsettling. I don’t want to be here without her. It’s oddly comforting in a way, when I know she’s in the same building as me, even though I’ve never even approached her in person. And I have the sudden urge to see her with my own eyes again. The brief minute I watched her on the treadmill wasn’t nearly enough, and I realize she unknowingly gave me that same taste that sparked my appetite for more of her.
I grab my backpack out of the locker and my huge water jug’s strap, slamming the door closed before striding out of the locker room and the short distance between it and the café, my eyes scouring all the couches over by the front wall of windows to my left. She’s not there.
RomanticSadistLL:
Where are you?
How is my mood sinking so quickly just from the idea that she’s already left? This is ridiculous. No woman has ever had such an effect on me before, especially one I’ve never even spent any amount of time with in person before.
My phone vibrates twice in my hand.
WillDive4Plants:
Right here ??
Dying. Look to your right.
And just like that, my mood lifts like a fog being blown away by a powerful wind. My head lifts and I follow her direction, my eyes darting right. And there she is. Sitting Indian-style with her laptop resting on her thighs, big rose-gold headphones over her ears, black thick-framed glasses perched on her cute nose, her eyes on me for a split second until I meet them, and then they lower to her computer screen. She wears a shaky closed-lipped smile, clearly unable to control her nerves.
Did she glance down out of respect for a Dom, or was it just another nervous reaction, unable to hold my gaze?
Either choice is delightful as fuck. And before I know it, my body takes control without my mind’s consent, as I take a step in her direction.
Chapter Three
SIENNA
Oh holy fucking hell. He’s here. He’s. Right. There. And he looked at me! I think that in the past tense, because I have no idea if he’s still looking at me. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s still standing there or if he took one look at me, did an about-face, and then ran away like a man being chased by a velociraptor.
